Forced
by Magnolia815
Summary: She hadn't planed to be with him like this. Not at all! But it was as it always had been between the both of them: forced.  Unfortunately none of the main characters are mine! No profit is made out of this - it's just entertainment. enjoy :
1. Chapter 1

The path was long and dusty. The chain around her neck tore badly and the fine sand between her skin and the metal chafed unmercifully. The sand was everywhere, even in the beggarly remains of her uniform and let to nasty open wounds.

For a week now they were on their way. The water which was given to her and the others captives was strictly rationed. They gave her just enough to keep her marching and prevent her from collapsing. Christine Chapel didn't even want to think about the character of what they gave her to eat. It was jerky, as tough as leather and from indefinable origin. She had to tear it with her teeth to split some fibers. It barely satisfied her hunger.

"The wounds will inflame." she thought anxiously and touched the open spots on her throat. A mixture of sweat and dirt were burning in them. She was despaired. She wouldn't be able to stand this strain much longer. That was for sure. The sun kept on shining pitiless. The barren, desert- like valley they crossed, bore no shadow. It was surrounded by just as barren mountains. On top of that the white rock faces amplified the reflections of the light which was thrown on the caravan.

She wondered how much longer it would take them to reach their destination – and what would happen when they finally arrived? Above her a whip cracked and disrupted her thoughts.

The guard yelled at her in partly unknown words. Amongst unfriendly hiss and click tones she could only identify fragments that made sense. Her universaltranslator had been damaged when the shuttle crashed. However even without the exact translation the command to keep going was unmistakable. The guard was a salty guy just like his subordinate. He built up right in front of Christine and dragged her aloft, towards him. His skin was pink like hers and he seemed almost human, if there hadn't been thousands of the most delicate capillaries that enlaced his skin like a fine spider's web. He was strong – unbelievably strong. The hair was dark as everybody else's was in the caravan. They all seemed to belong to the same species Christine mused. Her scientific curiosity had in spite of her current circumstances not died yet. She forced herself to stay alert and awake. It helped her fight against despair. The man stank of sweat like an animal. He grinned at her and revealed scruffy teeth. The sight made her shiver. They were smaller than those of humans – and much pointier. Most frightening however was the sheer amount of them in his foul-smelling mouth that was just a few inches away from her face. Her stomach turned and she began to choke involuntarily. It seemed to amuse him – anyway his gurgling noises sounded like a sneering laughter. Roughly he pulled on the long chain which connected her with about a dozen women of his kind and forced her to walk on. The eyes of the aliens were of such a light blue – they appeared to be almost white. It had to be an adaption to the desert. It made them look surreal and spooky.

Her fellow captives were in worse shape than she herself. Their long black hair was tangled and the simple clothes they wore were torn and in rags. None of them talked to her. Anyway they hardly made any noise at all. As if their will was totally broken they walked unresisting in a long line behind the guard and his henchman – all linked with each other through the iron chain like cracked gemstones in a jewelry.

At night when a provisional camp was set up the men sought out the women and humiliated them. Even then Christine couldn't hear them whine or moan. She only heard the men's disgusting grunting. The women kept silent. Christine thought that they had accepted their fate. They were just empty shells.

Regardless of her on own situation it broke her heart to observe it.

Christine came to the conclusion that her shuttle must have crashed. They had been on been on their way back from Panar 5 – an uninhibited planet full of resources and medically interesting flora where they had gathered botanical and microbiological interesting samples. On their way to the Enterprise an immense ion current had hit them out of the blue. The storm must have had them thrown far from their calculated route. They never made it to the rendezvous` coordinates. God only knew where this damned class M planet was located, which had caught them in his gravitational field and now held Christine Chapel captive. It could last weeks or months before the Enterprise had tracked her down- if at all. Where was the shuttle? She couldn't guess. She had woken up in this waste land when someone had given her water. Gratefully she took it. But soon enough her gratefulness for not dying of thirst gave way to blank horror. The aliens marveled over her, groped her pale skin and her bright blond hair. She was an oddity amongst them and before she could say knife she was absorbed by the caravan.

During the long march she did keep on looking for the shuttle or its remains but she couldn't find any trace far and wide. And then it hit her with full strength: SPOCK! They had been together on an away- mission. Where was he? Dead? Did he burn up in the shuttle or did he shatter on the surface? Had he been able to save himself? She wanted to believe in that, fervently. He must not be dead!

She had to stick this situation out, somehow, and if possible escape so that she could search for him. Together they would be able to install some kind of emitter which would transmit a signal to the Enterprise. Kirk would find them! She was sure about that. She just had to endure this and find Spock. As if they were a mantra, Christine mumbled these sentences to herself, again and again.

"You'll make it, Chris! You always have! Hang in there! Find Spock! It can't take long anymore!"

Her thoughts wandered back to the past six weeks on Panar5. They had spent them together. Christine didn't choose it this way that was for sure. Him and her alone on a long expedition... it was one of those situations which she absolutely wanted to avoid. She was painfully aware of the fact that her presence was a burden for the first officer and that he thought she was annoying or even importunate. But she had never given him a reason for that. She did behave as restrained as possible, after the events on Platonius more than ever. Bit by bit the tense atmosphere between the both of them had given way to an efficient method of operation. Both were professional enough to want to lead the mission to a successful conclusion. Their contact was strictly limited to duty – apart from that she kept out of his way. After the first week, Spock had come to terms with her insofar, that he was able to reduce his meditation to a Vulcan standard degree. Apparently he was no longer ridden by the fear she might throw herself to him any moment or that she would request something improper from him.

She - on the other hand - did enjoy his closeness nonetheless. Long ago she had given up on hoping that someday there could be something more between them. But her silent feelings, her admiration and her respect for him she wasn't able to switch off. There would never be a man who could bear a comparison with him. During the last 3 years the love for him became part of her nature regardless of the fact that he never would love her back.

Now she was alone- without the assurance that he had survived the crash. She crossed the desert, trance-like, always carrying her mantra on her lips. She wasn't going to give up!

During her first night the guard had also come to her. She had tried to fight him tooth and nail but the man had been like a rock. Her fist had bounced from his adamant chest without leaving an impression on him. He forced her down. Christine kicked and scratched him as hard as she could – to no perceptible effect. Her defense spurred him on even more. When he had laid on her and had begun to spread her legs she screamed. She was powerless against him. She prepared herself for him raping her. But it would only be her body. He would not possess her. Then, miraculously, he let go of her. Stunned he started to sniffle on her. First on her throat, then between her bare breasts and finally on her lap. Humiliated and disgusted she wriggled beneath him but he pressed her down with his body and held her with a vise like grip. So she had no other choice but to endure his sniffing. He stood up grinning. The moonlight sparkled on his pointy teeth. Unbelieving Christine realized that he was going to spare her however his features told neither of sympathy nor mercy. For some reason her smell had earned her a period of grace but the way he looked down on her with satisfaction made her shiver. What lay ahead would only be worse and she feared that grace would be of temporary nature.

After two more weeks full off breeding heat and biting cold nights in which she had learned to seek some warmth amongst the other women Christine Chapel thought she was hallucinating. In front of her at the foot of the distinct mountain range a luscious, green grove began to show. It was divided by a wide stream glistening in the sun. Behind it multi- leveled, flat houses arose – all of them whitewashed.

Bustle broke loose all over the caravan. Even the fatalistic women began to whisper quietly but full of excitement. There it was, finally, the long desired and also feared destination. After they had stepped through the broad and wooden town gate the guards pushed them forward through narrow alleys that quickly filled up with people gaping at the newly arrived. Mainly men or boys gathered at the wayside; Christine could only make out women sporadically. There was a lot of hustle about the group but the most attention was aimed at Christine. She felt stripped and naked in the rags of her uniform. At least her Starfleet insignia was still attached to it and she tried to gather courage from it.

She took a straight poise full of pride and strode amongst the others, her head held up high as if she were a guest of honor in a parade rather than a circus oddity creating commotion through her otherness.


	2. Chapter 2

Loosely her blond mane hung over her shoulders. The neatly put up knot that she wore on duty was long gone. The pitiless desert sun had bleached her hair almost white. She was nearly a head taller than the other women. It was impossible not to attract attention. Most probably this civilization had never seen an alien before. On a technological level they seemed to be on the standard of Earth's early 16th century.

Then they arrived in a spacious two storied house located at the end of a large, oval plaza. The overseer pushed them in. They took their clothes. At the last moment Christine was able to save her Enterprise- insignia that, served as her communicator and as universal translator, from an old matron. She tried to hide it in the palm of her hand and was hoping that the corpulent woman hadn't noticed it. After unchaining the girls, she led them in the rear of the house naked as they were. Christine found herself in front of a huge pool. She held her breath. After the exertion of the long march it seemed like paradise. The old grunion shouted something at them, but all that Christine's translator spit out were the words "disgusting" and "wash". None of them needed further invitation and so they jumped into the cool water with pleasure. After taking an extensive bath the old woman brought a pot full of ointment to treat their abrasions. Christine smelled on it with curiosity but all she could tell was that it had to be some kind of antiseptic. The whole time through the matron was mad with the guards. She upbraided them."Schertsobaat'ss goods szirna value, plascherznass fools!" she snorted, as she saw the degree of the injuries the men had caused the girls.

For the first time in weeks Christine felt clean and refreshed. The ointment took the burning pain off her wounds, but the relief she should have felt wasn't coming. The good treatment they were granted with in this strange house left a bitter taste in her mouth. The grunion didn't look like she made all this fuss out of sheer kindheartedness. When she applied the ointment, she also began to sniffle her up and down. The result was the same as it had been with the guard; a greedy grin showed itself on her face. By now Christine had a dark foreboding of what all of this could boil down to. As captives they had been led to this town, as slaves they would be sold. There was only one reason why the guard hadn't raped her yet; to not spoil the reward he would get for her. This realization hit her like a fist. She - and all the other women were nothing but cattle which was extensively curry-combed before the market day to appeal to the customers!

This night she found no sleep, regardless of the soft down beneath her. The fear of the auction tomorrow was choking her.

In the morning she was woken up early. Men, which had to be some kind of eunuchs brought her a new dress even if the long transparent piece of cloth didn't deserve the word. It really didn't veil anything.

When they tried to take her communicator away, Christine found back to her verve. Her struggle was doggedly and finally she succeeded in telling the old frump, who was in charge here, that it offered the only way to get herself across, reasonably. With a suspicious look she let her keep the 'trinket'- how she called the communicator- although she must have taken it for witchcraft. Christine was grateful and endured the following hour unresistingly. She had been made up. The other women wore too short and garish skirts. Their tops were nothing but two cords, crossing right beneath their breasts, Christine discovered. Their hair was pinned up artfully and with finesse. The faces were rouged in a lascivious way. It was too much and exaggerated. She herself was treated differently. After seeing the outfits of the other women, she was somehow thankful for her own dress. They let her long hair hang loosely. It had been combed that often, it shone like pure gold. Her eyes were framed with a blue eye-liner and they glistened. Her nails were covered with silver color.

As far as she could tell everyone was dressed up and waiting for the auction to begin. Christine found it hard to breath. The whole morning through she had looked for an opportunity to escape; in vain. The gull-wing doors of the chambers in which they were held had been flanked by guards, permanently.

A muted and deep gong sounded and they led her through a corridor. The time had come! The auction would begin and along with that her worst nightmares would come true. She wanted to run, escape but she was too petrified of the guards and their weapons. The fear held her with an iron grip.

The way opened up into a broad hall, illuminated brightly and dominated by a huge platform. – Up there she was commanded to go. Christine swallowed heavily. The faces she saw below her in the crowed all looked cruel like the guard's in the desert had looked. Those men didn't seem like they ever had loved a woman tenderly. They would hurt her and enjoy her screams. That she was certain of.

The first girl was auctioned accompanied by loud yelling. Everything happened very fast. Some calls from the audience and the deal was done. Christine barely dared to look up from her feet. She didn't want to look into the salivating faces. Soon enough she wouldn´t be able to evade that.

From the far side of the hall two men entered the room. They could not have been more different. One was tall, slander and full of disdain for what he was going to watch here, the other was muscular, stocky and absolutely unscrupulous – a man who took whatever he desired – born to reign. He entered the room and instantly all heads turned towards him. One bowed in front of him. He took it for granted. It was his birthright. A golden crown sat on his black, unruly hair. He strode straight towards an elevated double-seater, which was draped with crimson blankets and pillows. The ruler took a seat and indicated to his companion to sit next to him. He did it, reluctantly. This whole performance was against his nature, against all principles he held. But he had no other choice, he had to adjust and put a good face on the matter. One of the subjects, a man in simple clothes was going to leave with his newly acquired property. He had to pass the throne and was anxious not to draw any attention. He towed his slave through the crowd as fast as possible. He failed.

„Hey there!" the ruler called him. „Where are you bound for, this hastily? Won't you pay your king your respects?"

He turned towards the bull-necked man and took a deep bow.

„My Lord, how may I serve you?" he asked meekly. His features were tense. Exactly this confrontation he had wanted to avoid.

„Let me see, what you've bought." The king ordered – his voice full of false kindness.

The simple man pushed the girl closer to the ruler. Obediently, she let herself being handed from one man to the other.

With two fingers he lifted her chin up to have a better look at her face.

„And? Did I promise you too much? Our females are pretty and I think this one in particular, is a very well done example, or are you denying that?"

„In no way. She is aesthetically appealing." his companion answered dryly without putting much enthusiasm into his voice.

The king didn't understand him. He wanted to see this iceberg melting and dug deeper.

„If it is your wish, she is yours! She will warm your bed at night and will anticipate your every desire! I give her to you."

„With respect, my Lord...", the buyer interjected. „I waited for three years for a female..."

„Then you'll have to wait another year for having the nerve to raise your voice against me!" the king abruptly ended the man's attempt to hold on to the woman.

„This man here", he pointed at his companion „ saved my life! The life of your king! When I was hunting in the Tolosian Woods, a Sinik tried to attack me. My friend observed it. The gods themselves sent him at this very moment for my salvation. He overthrew the beast with only his hand! Don't you think you owe him some gratitude?"

„Of course, I do my Lord!" the man said with scrunching teeth.

„Didn't he earn any favor?"

„Of course, he did, my Lord!"

„Since that fateful day I call this man my brother. So, if my brother desires your female, then she's his!" He sounded very theatrically.

„Kanar," the just so highly praised interrupted the ruler. „It is not my wish to own this woman. I thank you for your offer, but I have to reject it."

„You don't like her?", Kanar asked unbelievingly. „What's wrong with her? Look, she's young and her breasts are firm like little apples." with that he grabbed her roughly on her bosom. The girl didn't dare to lose her straight face. „And her butt feels just as firm as well! Probably she is quite a good breeder. This farmer can still have her when you get tired of her."

„I can see the amenities you are describing very well. Yet nonetheless I have to decline, gratefully."

Kanar shook his head. He didn't get his companion. He was an excellent huntsman, took part in every foray throughout the land and had hunted quite a lot of animals – but perseveringly he refused to eat meat. Bravely, he had risked his own life to safe him –however, the immeasurable wealth he offered him as a reward, he disclaimed, consistently. All he had asked for was a little house in the outskirts of the town and provisions in the form of fresh vegetables and clear water. He was modest, something which was rare amongst his men. He was honest and intelligent. Even if they knew each other only for four weeks, Spock had become a valued advisor. He was useful and for that Kanar wanted to jolly the man along. But sometimes he just didn't understand him. How could he bind him permanently, if there was nothing he desired?

„Well, we will see, if we can find another female who'll fit your taste more." Kanar said wearily.

With a wave of his hand he dismissed the relieved farmer and his slave. Spock accepted it without a further comment. Instead he asked: „ Why did the farmer had to wait three years for a woman?"

„I don't know where exactly from behind these mountains you come from, but it has to be bloody far, Spock. Maybe it's different there, but here in this area we do not have a lot of females. For five sons born to a man, there will be only one female. They are rare and a subject has to earn the money to buy one for himself. Or he contents himself with what the others have left. But these females are of inferior quality, mostly. If he is brave enough he can get a better one by fighting the owner in a duel.

Spock raised a brow. He denied himself any comments. For the natives he had invented the story that he was from a village far behind the mountains. This should explain his otherness and his habits which could appear strange to them. To save Kanar´s life turned out to be a blessing. He had quarters and food and was under the king's protection. All he had to do was to wait until the Enterprise had located the rescue signal from the crashed shuttle. It was hidden and camouflaged very well. The natives would not be able to find it. Meanwhile, he didn't give up! There was still a chance of 15.5% to find nurse Chapel during one of his widespread wanderings. He would find her! After regaining consciousness in the wreckage he found himself alone. His scanning of the close environment didn't give him a hint of where his crewmate was. Luckily he had a functional tricorder and so he expanded his radius of looking for her bit by bit. Most likely she had been expelled during the ungentle landing and should be somewhere within seventy miles around the site of the crash. If she was still alive he had to find her, the sooner the better. It was even more urgent after he now had discovered firsthand how these barbarians treated their women!


	3. Chapter 3

He was the commanding officer and therefore responsible for nurse Chapel. While he was in charge, no one would abuse her, he vowed to himself, silently. He was sitting close to Kanar and was waiting for what would be happening next. All the time he noticed how the man kept on smelling on every girl who attended on him.

'Fascinating', he thought. "What are you doing there, Kanar?"

"What could I be possibly doing? I'm sniffing, of course!"

"For what reason?"

"For what reason? You just keep on amazing me, Spock! Your village has to lie at the back of beyond! Not only your people seem to lack the web on their skins and the gods gave you strange eyes and ears - no, furthermore you appear to be without any sense of smell! Some day you'll have to lead me to where you are from. I'm more than curious about a whole village full of weird inhabitants. This will amuse me!"

He patted Spock on the back matey and went on explaining like he was stating something totally obvious to a child.

"By the smell of a female, a man can tell, if she is occupied – if someone else owns her, don't you know?"

"No, until now this was unknown to me.", Spock replied.

"She is more valuable, if she doesn't wear the odor of another.", Kanar taught him. "However that's very rare, for we have few females. That's why we are robbing them."

Spock's concern was growing. What if Christine had fallen victim to them... Maybe this was the reason why he hadn't been able to find her anywhere.

And then he saw her.

Dressed in a transparent piece of nothing she stood there at the auction's - rostrum, surrounded by a dozen men that were sniffing on her excitedly. He saw her keeping her eyes shut in a tense way. Her whole body was stiff by tautness. Greedy fingers were touching her everywhere. Unconsciously Spock's fingers clenched into fists. He wasn't going to allow this! It must not happen! He had to get her out of here before one of the debauchees claimed her. She was his crew member!

The first offers for the light beauty were made and soon the price climbed up astronomically. The already fanned atmosphere heated up even more by the minute. He must not hesitate any longer.

"She's mine!" He said to Kanar and pointed directly at the jewel of the whole event. No external sign told of the uproar, raging in the Vulcan.

"What do you mean with 'she's yours`? ", the ruler replied surprised.

"I meant what I just said. She is mine and if one of them is going to touch her again, I'll kill him. You better let her be brought down from there. Now!"

Kanar was absolutely astonished.

So far Spock had never shown any interest in females, despite of the plenty, tempting offers he had made him. He even had speculated, whether he did prefer knaves. But even towards them the tall man kept cool and reserved. And now- at the drop of a hat- he alleged that this exotic beauty was his. He didn't know what to make of this.

"Bring her to me!" he ordered above the crowd.

Still Christine held her eyes closed firmly, as strong arms lifted her and carried her down- off the stage.

With her next glance she found herself looking up into a pair of warm, brown Vulcan eyes. She stumbled. Thunderstruck one thought was circling around in her brain. He was alive! It took a heavy load off her mind and left her lightheaded. Christine passed out. Just before her body dropped to the ground, Spock caught her.

"Nurse Chapel!" he tried to wake her up by shaking her.

In his arms she came to it.

"Sir!" for a few seconds she just stared at him. Then she realized she had to pull herself together.

Suppressing the impulse to lean against him she got up. Embarrassed she put her transparent dress into shape. His eyes wandered along her barely covered body. Christine was only too well aware about the fact that she was virtually standing naked in front of the first officer. Shame colored her cheeks purple. He, himself wore hardly more than she did. Like Star Fleet – regulations demanded he had adjusted to the local population. Like all men he wore a white loincloth. His chest was bare. On each of his forearms he wore richly decorated leather straps. Never had she seen him like that. In sickbay he had been more exposed to her many times, but on these occasions a strictly professional atmosphere had prevailed. She was a nurse and when it came to taking care of her patients, she did not let anyone or anything distracts her from her task.

The here and now – it was of quite a different nature. Hadn't she known better, she would have thought Spock was emitting some kind of wild and unbridled power. Within her the most diverse feelings were raging. She faltered between the relief to see him, a deep shame and the uncertainty of how to behave now. Still his gaze lingered upon her body. As he looked into her eyes she discovered how displeasing the situation was for him. What was he going to do next? Seemingly, he was a free man in this world whereas she would be sold as a slave. Obviously he was held in high esteem by the magnificently dressed man, standing next to him. The way this one stared at her gave her the creeps. He looked like he was going to devour her right away. Christine decided to keep her mouth shut. Here they expected their women to be subservient. Commander Spock would take the initiative. She looked at him interrogatively and with a barely noticeable blink, he signaled her that she was right; he had a plan.

Throughout the years Christine had become a true expert, when it came to read even the faintest expression in Spock's minimalistic features. Commonly, most people and even the crew of the Enterprise thought Vulcan's were without any emotions – she knew better. Definitely they felt, even deeply and passionately. It was only logical, considering their savage past. But these early years were the very reason, why the Vulcan's thought every kind of emotion was destructive. They locked them away, deep inside. Discipline and self-control was everything to them. If this was valid for a pure Vulcan, Spock stuck twice as hard to the maxim of rationality.

He had recognized instantly, that he walked on dangerous grounds. Kanar desired Christine. If he decided to keep her for himself, nothing would stop him. The only one standing between the nurse and the barbarian was him. Amidst his men, Spock wouldn't get very far by using violence. He alone did not stand a chance. He had to do something immediately, as long Kanar thought he owed him. Possessively he grasped the surprised Christine around her waist and pulled her close to him.

"She's mine" he said again, this time even more determined.

"Take a look; she is wearing my emblem!" First Spock pointed at his communicator and then at Christine's. Kanar was pondering but not too impressed by Spock's argumentation. He closed in on her and began to sniff at her throat. Christine thought she had to crack up if she had to bear one more of these disgusting noses upon her flesh.

"How can she be yours? She's not wearing your odor. In fact she isn't wearing any odor at all." he provided Spock with a threatening look. "You despise our local girls and then you allege that the best female of the market place belongs to you. Be careful and do not push my gratitude to its limits. When it came to women, many friendships have come to an end!"

"We have been separated for a long time, Kanar. That's the reason you can't smell me upon her." Spock pretended to be absolutely calm. "During my journey she was stolen from me. And now I have to find her here! All that I'm demanding is to get back what I'm entitled to. Bring me the criminals and I'll take revenge for stealing my property!"

Kanar seemed to be convinced by this. What he could not afford was a public outburst of violence.

Every muscle in Spock's body was tense and ready to fight. First Christine had thought Spock was bluffing, but then she felt his hard body more than clearly, as he pressed her even tighter against him.

'_He's like a panther ready to attack his prey_', she realized and it made her dizzy.

"That's unnecessary." Kanar gave in. "Your taste is exquisite, Spock. I regret that I can't have this female for myself but she is yours and you shall get her back. If you ever get tired of her, it would be my pleasure to welcome her amongst my women."

Spock held her closer.

"IF this day comes, I'll let you know." he responded coolly.

"Please excuse us now; I would like to adjourn to my home now with her."

"I understand!" Kanar said with a smirk.

Spock turned towards the exit. At the last moment the ruler grabbed him by his arm and held him back. He brought his face next to Spock's ear.

"Just so you know; I did you a great favor. Hadn't you saved my life, this beauty would already lie beneath me on the ground! Here and now! Hereby my debt is cleared. Do not put my patience to the test any further.

Spock nodded to show that he had understood.

When they finally closed the doors, of the little house in the outskirts of town, behind them something in Christine Chapel broke loose.

She turned to Spock and hit as hard as she could with her fists against his chest. A heavy wave of emotion crushed against his consciousness. She took him by surprise and he tumbled against the wall. Christine did not stop. She wasn't able. He tried to shield against her rage but wasn't completely successful. He felt her need to fight, to revolt. For weeks she had been dominated. For weeks she hadn't been herself. And now even Spock had treated her like a piece of meat! Christine couldn't stand this world any longer. It was the last ounce of still unbroken pride, somewhere buried deep inside of her, which caused her to lash about.

Spock endured it without defense. He understood.

After minutes it was over and Christine sank to the floor. She didn't cry or moan. She just sat there and stared at him.

What the hell had she just done? - She thought to herself. _'No -, I haven't just hit my superior officer? Have I?'_

He knelt in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Sir! Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry!" She said "I don't know what came upon me!"

"It's OK, Miss Chapel. Your reaction was quite understandable, if one considers what has happened to you during the last weeks. I'm not offended." He apologized formally for his behavior at the auction.

Once more Christine's face changed its color into a shade of deep purple.

She shook her head to tell him that she should be the one to apologize, but he didn't let her have her say.

"It was the only way to get you out of there as soon as possible..."

"I know, Sir. You were right. My wrath wasn't against you! I needed a valve. I should have put myself together, but... it was too much for my self- control."

His eyes fell upon the scruffy wounds around her neck with horror.

"I'm deeply sorry, Miss Chapel. I should have found you earlier." He turned and looked outside the window. She couldn't see his face any more.

"Have they...I mean... did they hurt you beyond that?"

"No, Spock." she replied deliberately in a matter-of-fact tone. "I have been dehydrated and the overseers didn't treat me like their guest of honor, but except of the abrasion I am unharmed. It wasn't your fault, Commander."

Christine looked around, searching for something to cover her body. At least in the house she would keep her dignity.

Spock guessed what she was looking for and got her a long white canvas from the bordering bedroom. It was large enough to wrap it like a toga around her. During this procedure he turned his back again at her, decently.

"Where's the shuttle", she asked as soon as she was satisfied with her coverage.

"It is about 5 miles from here in a small wood surrounded by copse. It is hidden from the natives, sufficiently. But unfortunately it's unfit to fly. On this planet I'm in a lack of tools and supplies to fix it. Here they don't even know electricity. I don't really like saying this, nurse Chapel, but until further notice we are struck on this planet."

Her features darkened.

"Sir, have you been able to activate the distress signal?"

"Yes, but it remains uncertain when the Enterprise will locate it. There is hardly anything we can do but to check each day if the signal is still on and to wait."

They sat down on opposite sides of the broad, wooden table in the kitchen. Spock poured them fresh, cool water from a clay jug. Thankful Christine took the glass and swallowed the water greedily.

"I am Kanar's guest and he sees me as part of his court. He is a fitful man, driven by emotions and not trustworthy. He makes his decisions just as he pleases. Up until now he owed me but after today we should not depend on his goodwill any longer. He's going to get more demanding, and that I do not like.

He took a big gulp of water and put the glass back on the table. He looked at it intensely and hesitated to continue his speech.

"What's up, Spock?"

He turned his face towards her, his gaze as penetrating and as worried, as she ever had seen his Vulcan features.

"He is going to want you, Miss Chapel."

Her eyes grew large by fear. Suddenly she believed to feel the heavy iron- chain again. Unconsciously she touched her throat.

"But he is thinking I belong to you, Commander! He bought your story!"

His glance was made of steel.

"Yes, but as soon as he meets you again, he will smell that it was a lie.

Spock continued his explanation to the nurse about the whole- sniffling-matter in a neutral and scientific way. He did not spare her the consequences.

All at once everything made perfect sense; the behavior of the overseer in the desert, the smirk of the old matron...

Her head lay heavy in her hands.

"We won't be able to hold up this charade until the Enterprise will get us..." she said chastened.

"No, we won't. Kanar won't let go!"

"What can we do?"

The despair in her voice touched him. If the ruler was going to get her in her current state, he had a carte blanche to do whatever he wanted with her. Once he was done with her, nothing of the proud, blond woman would be left. He would destroy her body and soul, delightfully.

"Maybe there is a way that would let him lose interest in you, at least temporarily. It would buy us some time."

She looked up and he saw a little spark of hope in her blue eyes.

Interrogatively she peered into his face. He didn't say anything just held her gaze captive. And then she realized what he was driving at.

"Spock!" she whispered. "I can't let this happen!"


	4. Chapter 4

_This story is M- rated. So if you are not a grown up GO NOW! To all the others, enjoy…_

…..

He kept on looking at her steadily and Christine began to shake her head.

"NO! I know only too well, what your privacy means to you, Commander. It would be against your nature! I won't let you swap your physical integrity for mine! There has to be another way!"

"I don't see another one." he said merely. "I am your superior officer and therefore responsible for your well-being!"

"And I'm a nurse! Do you think I'm not aware of what this means to you? You would suffer, Spock! I can't let this happen!"

She stood up with a conclusive expression on her face.

"How would I ever be able to work again? How should I ever be able to look into a mirror again, if I let my needs overweight someone else's? What's the oh-so-high-held Vulcan moral- codex saying about such a person? Hu?"

She was more than upset. What he suggested was impossible.

"Nurse", he replied – deliberately using her formal title to underline the distinction of their ranks, "the amount of violence you'll have to deal with, if Kanar finds out about our lie will be disproportional compared with what I have to give up. There will be no further discussion on the matter! We will do whatever we have to, to emerge as unharmed as possible from this situation. Do you understand me?"

She nodded.

"What happens on this planet between the both of us will stay on this planet, is that acceptable?"

She still hesitated.

"I promise I'll be as unobtrusive and discreet as possible towards you. I won't harm you."

For her, that wasn't the point. How could he assume she was afraid that he would hurt her?

"That's not it, Spock. It is... You and I... Of all the women on board it had to be me, you crashed with! I don't wish to force you into this situation, Sir. I..."

He interrupted her.

"I know that you aren't to blame and that it wasn't your intention, Miss Chapel. We both are acting under duress. We'll do what is necessary and ignore the matter otherwise. Keeping still will ease our interaction. Do you think you are capable of it?"

She nodded barely noticeable but didn't look up to him.

"Then you agree?"

Again- a short nod. She could not speak right now.

"Good. I will leave. Kanar's huntsmen are taking off in the afternoon. I won't be back before dusk. I suggest you ain't leaving the house until we ... 'til you're wearing my odor."

With these words he stood up abruptly and went outside.

Christine was left behind, petrified.

Hours later the helpless feeling she had- ever since crashing on this cursed planet had vanished- it had made room for sheer anger.

Outside it was slowly getting dark, she realized with surprise. Sweat stuck to her body. She had cleaned the whole house like in a mad state. And now- everything was done. There was nothing left to distract her.

Her situation was beyond all bearing. Her thoughts drifted into the past.

The Psi- 2000 incident; she had made a fool of herself. Back then, she had believed Spock had suppressed feelings for her. She had been so stupid! She had made a fool of herself, as he had thrown the soup after her, deeply in pon farr – fever, and when she had held his katra to prevent Henoch from erasing Spock. Always she had made a fool of herself! It didn't matter that the whole ship knew and laughed about her. What drove Christine Chapel really mad was the fact that she had held herself as a fool! Where had her pride been? Spock had never sought her company. On the contrary; he had avoided her- always- as if he was ashamed by HER lack of self- esteem. This was the worst. This very thought pulsed painfully through her head.

Over and over she had been confronted with Spock, but each time they happened to be forced settings for them. Forced closeness. Forced touches. Sometimes she thought she still felt his lips upon hers.

Platonius.

This episode had opened up her eyes. The forced kiss. The Platonians had taken control over his body and had used her to humiliate him. They had violated him. His behavior back on board had been more repellent than ever. To him it had been like a rape. Of course it wasn't her fault, but still it had been her lips. Always SHE had to be the one! This was her point of no return from which all hope had died. She had started to accept he would never feel something for her. Why had those Platonians chosen her, just her to torture him? Then it had only been a kiss. And now?

Again SHE was the one and again HE was the one. Forced!

Meanwhile night had settled and it was fully dark outside. Spock would come home soon. Panic arose inside Christine. She must not do this to him, not again. She had no other choice. What would this night mean to them? She refused to fall back into old patterns of behavior. It didn't matter that she loved this man and that she had imagined for the thousandth time how a night with him might be. Like that however her fantasies had never been. Forced. She was a fool, a damned fool! Her hope was that it would soon be over and that the Enterprise would come to their rescue very fast. Then she would hole up in sickbay and jump into work.

It was so absurd; tonight she was going to sleep with Spock, her only love! He would sacrifice himself out of conscientiousness. She would do the same with her dreams.

She had taken a hot tub. Somewhere in the bathroom she had found a sponge and a piece of soap. It smelled pleasantly of vanilla and she had scrubbed her body until it had become as red as a boiled lobster. She wasn't going to insult him by impurity or appear repellent to him. Had there been alcohol in the house, she would have gotten drunk, but there wasn't a single drop to be found. There was no way for her to get numb. Everything was prepared, everything was ready; there was nothing left to do for Christine. She took her clothes off and climbed into the large and empty king- sized bed.

The white linen felt enjoyably cool against her skin. She lay in the dark room and waited.

When he came, it was already very late. She froze, as she heard him entering the room. Spock remained silent. Without a word or a glance in the direction of the bed he got rid of his clothes.

Then he climbed to her beneath the sheets. Instantly she felt the heat he radiated. About one minute went by until he turned to her. For Christine it seemed to be an eternity. Did he have to put himself together? Was he meditating to deal better with what was unavoidable?

Then, finally she felt his touch. His warm and dry hand lay soft upon her shoulder. It appeared to be his way of asking her permission. Just as wordless she turned towards him. Her heart pondered. This wasn't the encounter of two people stormily in love. Nothing was as it had been in her imagination- nothing. With one fluid motion he placed himself above her, based on his arms.

She felt his weight and how his muscles were moving. He reminded her of a black panther in all his power and litheness.

'_Oh my g__oodness!'_ - She thought:_ 'He's a touch- telepath!'_ Was he able to read her very thought? She stiffened and tried to concentrate only onto herself. The heat he emitted seemed to spread over to her. Her face was glowing. She looked up, directly into his dark eyes. She wanted to look away but she was held captive. Again his gaze was asking her for allowance, seemingly. As an answer she spread her legs. His features were straight and emotionless, when he invaded her by a single movement. Christine closed her eyes. She was wet, distressingly wet and embarrassing ready for him. After this night she would never be able to gather the strength to look at him again, most probably.

He was big and filled her completely. It didn't hurt, but in the first moment she was shocked. The last man she had been with was Roger and this was years ago. She couldn't remember he had ever been this deep inside of her. Spock didn't move. He gave her time to adjust. Then, very slowly he began. A smooth rhythm was building up. Slow and strong. When she dared to look up again she saw he had his eyes closed. His motions became more rapid. She thought she had to burn up any moment. Everything inside her screamed to move beneath him, to wrap her legs around his waist, to touch his strong, muscular arms, to meet his pelvis, but she constrained herself to lie still. She didn't want to lower her guard or affront him. What did he feel? Did he even feel anything beside reluctance against this act? She knew it was terribly wrong but she could not resist; she found his closeness deeply arousing. Then all rational thoughts deserted her. The orgasm pulled her away and washed over her like a giant wave. Spock stopped in his rhythm and observed the woman beneath him. Her cheeks were glowing. Her whole body was strongly heated and covered with a fine layer of sweat which made her glisten in the dark. Absent- mindedly she had thrown her head back and her hands had found support by holding his arms.

He found this sight most astonishing and fascinating. Again he thrust into her. He felt her wild contractions around his member. He was completely surprised by her intense reactions. Her aroma surrounded him, her moisture lay around him and forced him to enter her untamed more and more like inebriated. He must not lose control! But the sight of the winding woman beneath him was too much for his self- restraint. With a last hard thrust he erupted into her. It was like their bodies were melting.

Christine felt hot lava floating into her womb. She sought out his gaze and for an instant she actually believed to look directly in the inside of a wild animal, but the moment went by so fast, she must have been mistaken.

Spock's face appeared absolutely controlled. His cheeks were a bit greener as usual, but apart from that he was unemotional and unimpressed as ever. He rolled off her and lay on his back.

It was over.

His breathtaking slowed down and his breast heaved on as if nothing had happened.

She wanted to touch him, to huddle against him. She desired to sense his closeness and warmth further. She longed to let her fingers play in his curly chest hair and explore this fantastic strange body – to feel his lips upon hers, to deeply suck in his odor of cinnamon and moss. She didn't do anything suchlike. She wasn't allowed to. He would not have welcomed her touches.

It was over. He had fulfilled his duty.

Suddenly the night was very cold. She pulled the canvas closer around her as she turned her back to him and rolled over to her side of the huge bed.

Without comment- like the whole act had been- she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning came without mercy. Dazzling sunbeams fell through the window upon her face and woke her up. She looked at the empty bed next to her. The white linen reflected the sunlight and hurt her eyes. He had left. What had she expected?

She forced herself to get up, though she felt dull and beaten. After she had done her morning rituals thoroughly, and had made the bed, she found herself in the kitchen. Helpless Christine looked around. There was nothing to eat in the house and her stomach was growling. She had to go out there, leaving the safety of her new home behind. On the one hand she was glad, because the walls around her seemed to come closer by the minute and she felt trapped - but on the other hand, she didn't know what would be waiting for her outside. Was she safe after last night? Christine smelled on her arm - nothing. She wasn't able to smell him anymore. She blushed as the memories came creeping into her mind. Cinnamon and moss... so good, so intoxicating. She shook her head. For her perception the scent was gone. If it still lingered upon her she didn't know. There was only one way to find it out. She threw some kind of fabric around her shoulders and set out for the market place to find something eatable. She felt a little odd, as she walked outside. It wasn't pain and she wasn't sore either, but with each step her body seemed to vibrate and she felt the echoes of the night between her thighs. Her cheeks were glowing with embarrassment. What was Spock doing this very moment and what was he thinking about their arrangement? Did he already regret it? Was he thinking about it at all?

The streets were full, but to her relief this early there was hardly anyone but women, pursuing their duties. The few men she saw did look at her with undisguised interest, but apart from that, they left her alone.

She followed the main stream of the passersby and to her own satisfaction after a short while she found herself at the bazaar. The colorful market stands offered the most diverse goods. It was a feast for both; eyes and nose. From a spice-stand alien and exotic fragrances exuded. It magically drew her closer. The merchant looked at her curiously but not without friendliness. She pointed at a linen sack, which contained finely grounded, red powder.

"What's that?", she wanted to know.

"You can't hide, that you are not from around here.", he declared amused. "This is Tamala. You use it for nearly each dish as the main spice. Do you want to taste it? You won't find a better Tamala on the whole market." , he praised his product effusively.

Christine couldn't refrain from grinning. It was everywhere the same in the whole galaxy - always. The pudgy man dipped a small wooden stick into the sack and then gave it to her. She smelled carefully and tasted it only with the tip of her tongue. A spicy and zesty flavor spread in her mouth. She was thrilled. The merchant recognized it flattered.

"And this?" she pointed at the sack next to the Tamala. It was full of what looked like dark nuts.

"Krunies, one prepares desserts of it." He offered one to her and Christine ate it without hesitation.

'_Definitely nuttily_', she decided.

After half an hour, she had tasted everything throughout his assortment.

The range of different flavors made her enthusiastic. She had chosen over a dozen herbs and spices. The merchant's silent companion weighed them for her and packed them in little paper bags.

Christine regarded the young woman. Compared to her employer -or owner?- she did not speak a lot, but to her surprise she didn't appear submissive or unhappy.

Unlike the women Christine had met at the slavery-auction the girl was no beauty – a harelip drew its line unmistakably from her mouth to the nose, but the eyes of the round face looked full of liveliness and interest. Christine saw the little subtle touches between her and the merchant, which told of a familiarity and care, she had not expected on this planet.

When the girl had packed everything, Christine saw herself confronted with the next problem. She had no money! The payment hadn't crossed her mind at all until now. These groceries were badly needed!

"I am deeply sorry, but is it possible to pay these goods tomorrow? I have no money with me." she admitted embarrassedly.

His eyes grew large with astonishment.

"I would have been surprised if you did.", he answered with a grin. "Our females do not have any money."

Christine looked uncomprehendingly from him to all the other women who did their daily shopping at the market.

"And how do they pay anything?" she asked and pointed around.

The black haired girl looked up to her man to get permission to speak. He nodded down at her with a smile and Christine got the feeling that this act was nothing but formality between them.

"This isn't a big city here, so there are not many females. The traders- they know who belongs to whom. The women go shopping, and we register the costs. The men meet the bill. You see? It's that easy."

Christine was puzzled.

"And when strangers like me are coming to your stand...? You can't know who _owns _me,", she said full of disgust. "or if I am trustworthy!"

"Oh! You are not unknown amongst our people." the girl replied. "Every one is speaking of the bright female with the milky skin and the wheat-hair. You belong to Spock, the advisor and friend of our king. This brings you as much credit as you could possibly want, everywhere!"

Now Christine was even more dumbfounded. This simplified the situation indeed, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was nothing more than an accessory, the belonging of a man. Without him and his approval she was lost. How were the women here able to bear that? Did they have absolutely no free will? No wishes for themselves, no longing for independence?

The girl right in front of her seemed not to fit completely into that pattern.

"May I offer you a suggestion?" she addressed Christine who looked at her expectantly.

"Let me help you complete your groceries. You are not familiar with this market and its conventions. I'm able to show you where to get the best quality and how to behave. And I can tell you which vegetable needs which spice or where to buy the best fabric for clothes! If you agree, master!" she looked at the merchant with a plea in her voice. Again he smiled at her.

"Go along, with her, Tamaris!" he said good naturedly and gave her a pat on her behind.

Christine blushed. She found it hard to adjust to the openly shown sexuality on this planet. Tamaris, however, was relatively unimpressed by the fact of being an object of lust.

Both women set forth. They had a vivid chat on their way across the market and very soon they were at natural manners. They were curious about each other. Tamaris began to pepper Christine with thousands of questions and in return she told of her life and the customs here which appeared kind of absurd to the nurse in many ways. Each time, when Chris looked at her disbelievingly, she started to laugh out loud. It felt good, to hear Tamari's jollity. It broke through the insulation which surrounded Christine, ever since the crash. At the end of their day together, she felt as light as she hadn't been for a long, long time. She had made a friend.

When they finally arrived at Christine's temporary home she found herself unable to end this day of friskiness, and decided to invite her in.

Christine prepared a cup of tea made of the lately bought herbs and Tamaris sat down on the kitchen table. They continued their girl-talk while Christine went on to cook a rather experimental stew made out of foreign vegetables. As it turned out, both women shared an interest for medical herbs. Tamaris had explained to her different plants and their effects. Meanwhile, the smell of the steaming pot on the stove spread it's pleasant fragrance through the room. Relieved, Christine came to the conclusion that the time spent on this planet would not completely be in vain. She made the mental note to create a catalog of the local medically relevant herbs. Back on the Enterprise her knowledge could be of value. She and Leonard could start to analyze the effectual components!

He would brim over with enthusiasm for this project!

The thought of the ship end her friends caused a frown on her face. They didn't even know where to look for them! It was more than possible that this part of her life was irretrievably over. No more science, no discoveries – no comrades anymore.

Carefully Tamaris touched her arm.

"Christine, what's on your mind?"

"It's nothing", she replied "really."

She wasn't going to spoil this day by dark thoughts. No way! She vowed to herself, that she would make the best of her situation.

Tamaris stood up and emptied her cup of tea.

"I have to go now. Baltar is waiting for me." she said with a smile.

"Will you be in trouble for frittering away time with me all day long?"

Christine didn't want to be the cause of Tamari's punishment.

"No, no!" , she waved aside as if even the thought of her being in trouble would be absurd.

"Baltar is a good man. I'm lucky to have someone like him. Actually he isn't able to deny me any wish. If it is fine with you, I'll visit you again tomorrow.", she suggested as they said goodbye at the door. Christine accepted gratefully.

Whit her own eyes she had seen how uncomplicated the interaction between Tamaris and her man had been. She thought about it while watching her new friend leave.

She was glad, that Tamaris was obviously so happy with her master, but at the same time she felt a small prick, because inevitably she had to think of Spock. The whole day had been so filled and distracting, it had been easy to suppress any thoughts about him.

Now it was evening and her distraction was gone; she was alone again. Her thoughts drifted to last night.

When he came home she was sitting at the table, her collected plants spread in front of her. She took notes into a little book she also had bought at the market.

She looked up to him. He stood in front of her; hands folded behind his back.

Not really sure how to behave, Christine just stared up to him, without saying a word.

"Good evening, nurse.", he greeted her formally.

Well then, she thought; he stuck to his decision to ignore _"the matter" _as far as possible. It would be hard for her, harder than she had imagined, but for his sake she tried to put her feelings aside. He did it for her – to protect her. She owed him to look cool and factual on _"the matter"._It was his way to handle the situation and she would adjust.

"Good evening to you, Sir.", she replied only.

His eyes fell at the steaming pot at the stove which gave off a mouth-watering smell and he gave her a questioning look.

"Today I have been to the market. They are granting us credit everywhere due to your position at court. So it won't be a problem to keep our larder filled, as long as we are here."

"How convenient! What's that? It seems quite interesting." he pointed at the systematically sorted herbs in front of Christine.

"Well, I can't do anything to help with our rescue. This leads me to the choice of either sitting around wasting my time bored or to do something useful. I chose the later alternative, Mr. Spock. I started to file the flora around the city."

She waited for his reaction. He nodded approvingly. This was an excellent idea. He didn't come around noticing how professional this woman was. A few month ago he wouldn't have held her in such high esteem. But what did he know about her then? Nothing - if he was honest to himself. The picture he had in mind then was absolutely wrong.

She continued: " Further more, I made the acquaintance of a young woman at the market. Her name is Tamaris. She helped me to find my way around there. She knows a lot about the local herbs and is willing to teach me. I hope this isn't against the directive."

"Not at all, Miss Chapel. We have no other choice than to participate in the daily life of these people. The more we know, the easier it will be to not attract attention. And if we gather scientific data along the way, it is even better. There is nothing to be said against it."

Christine was relieved.

She went on to explain some facts about the plants she had already recorded.

"This for example has an haemostatic effect! One grinds just a little bit of it between two fingers, and applies it to an open wound; it shall stop the bleeding immediately!", she told him enthusiastically.

"Fascinating!" he replied. Spock was surprised and a little bit amused, how thrilled she was.

"Isn't it? It is too bad, that we do not have two functional tricorders. I can't make out all the active components."

"Yes. Access to the Enterprise's laboratories would be very useful. Maybe there is a way to build some kind of lab here. It'll be nothing compared with what we would have on board, but I could try to construct something. We'll have to bring some items from the shuttle." he said pensively.

"This would be wonderful, Mr. Spock!"

He raised his brows at the bright smile she gave him.

"I have been there today. The rescue- signal is still intact. It only remains for us to wait; the status is unaltered."

Christine nodded and began to put her research project aside.

"Are you hungry, Sir? I think I have cooked a quite edible stew."

He looked in direction of the pot.

"Yes, I would like to try it.", he answered carefully but politely.

She ladled some of it into the wooden bowls, she had found in a cupboard. He took a seat. It was a precarious and ambiguous situation between them. Both were well aware of it. They were reminded of the last time when Christine had brought him soup. For a Vulcan it was a rather intimate gesture when a woman prepared and served a man food. It had ended with a stained wall and a shocked nurse, thrown out of the quarters of a first officer, deeply in blood-fever.

Well, if he did not want to starve, he had to endure this procedure, for better or for worse, she thought. She wasn't able to be considerate of all Vulcan sensibilities! She had cooked without meat and had been sparing with the spices. That had to do.

They ate in silence.

"Thank you, Miss Chapel." he said after the meal. "Its taste has been quite interesting."

Christine asked herself if she might take this as a compliment. His bowl was empty, anyway. Not one spoon of it was left.

She hid a grin, when she turned to the sink to clean the dishes.

Spock adjourned to the bathroom. She heard the water splashing, while she was still in the kitchen. She went into the small room and washed herself thoroughly, afer he had finished. When she was done he already lay in bed. She wasn't certain, if he slept or if he was waiting for her. Would the last night repeat itself or was it sufficient to sleep with each other once a week in order that his odor would protect her? She didn't know and she could not speak about it. Christine tiptoed to the bed. She was naked because the only toga she owned, she wore during daytime. Tomorrow she was going to ask Tamaris if she would help her to sew new dresses. Her housewifely skills were limited to the cooking. Never before had she been in a situation in which she had to fabricate her own clothes.

While lying awake next to him, she tossed and turned. Then she felt his hand upon her hip. Her heart missed a beat. He moved closer until their bodies almost touched. The already familiar heat was streaming towards her. He didn't approach further. He waited until she bridged the gap between them and pressed her behind against him. She felt his erection throbbing against her bottom and swallowed heavily. Spock used his hand to find her entrance. He felt her moisture upon his long fingers and how she trembled lightly as he touched her.

Then he filled her again. His head right behind hers and his hand on her hip, he started to move. She sensed his breath on her ear. She leaned sidewards, to grant him better access. Everything happened so very naturally. It was like a perfect dance; full of harmony and rhythm. The day before she had thought he was big and filled her - the feeling was even stronger this time. This way he invaded her completely. His pelvis met her backside and a small sigh escaped her. He paused for a moment and looked down at her from behind. She bit her lips, to be quiet. She must not let herself go! This was an arrangement and not a night of love-making. He should not notice how much she enjoyed it. He might take it as deception. Spock continued his movements; stronger, his pressure increased. His breath on her ear came raggedly. She wasn't able to bear this much longer, if he went on like this... Every time he withdrew his phallus completely, just to bury it even deeper into her with his next thrust. Her body was winding in front of his. It did no longer follow her will. Christine wasn't able to do anything against that, she reacted instinctively to Spock' s delicious touches. Did he know what he was doing to her? Did he do this on purpose? When she thought she would go mad by restrained pleasure, he came. His hand pressed into her hip roughly. This was enough to sent her over the edge, definitely. Flashes went through her. She felt him quiver behind her – he still held her close while her convulsions slowly faded. He didn't move. Exhausted he kept lying the way he was and Christine also felt incapable of rolling aside. Not until several minutes had passed, he drew his member out of her and turned to his side of the bed to sleep.

He mumbled a "Good night, Miss Chapel" and didn't even notice her hoarsely whispered "Good night, Spock" anymore.

At the thought of how it would be to be really loved by him, without any restrictions, without inhibitions, she began to let her tears run freely.

She was never going to experience that.


	6. Chapter 6

Christine was sleeping, when Spock left the house like he used to do every morning for the last two weeks. Hastily he did get ready. It was always the same. During the day time his obligations to Kanar kept him at court. In the late afternoon he arrived at home and during the night he merged with her. He wasn't sure when exactly he had begun to call the small, ragged house his home. And above all; why... Lately he had spent a lot of time trying to solve this question. This planet was in many ways like Vulcan, at least in this regional climate zone. The dry and hot air did him good. He was used to it. The atmospheric humidity was low, the nights bitterly cold and the days were torridly hot. There was no need to adjust the climatic controls or even to wear another layer of clothes beneath his Starfleet uniform to keep the cold from creeping into his bones like he had to on the ship. This had to be the reason! It had nothing to do with the strange familiarity he felt towards the nurse. After a good deal of thought he came to the conclusion that the climate was the most logical reason why he felt at home.

Apart from that, the resemblance to Vulcan ended. His ability of adaption to alien cultures was put to the test severely. Kanar did demand every ounce of control he was able to summon up. Just a few days ago he had been able to stop him from raising an army and invading the nearby Sterim. Spock was sure he would have razed the smaller city to its grounds. What made Sterim attractive to Kanar on the one hand was its fertile soil; there was flourishing the fivefold amount of what the agriculture was earning him on his own land – and on the other hand there was the chance of capturing a high rate of females. In Kanar's eyes the attack would be very rewarding. Spock had to bring up all his power of persuasion to make the greedy ruler understand that brute force would not get him any advantage at all. Well, he would have the women of one or two generations, but beyond that, there was the harvest of only one year he could gather. He would leave scorched earth. Nobody would be left to restore the damage or to farm the land. The city, its functional infrastructure, its working men and farmers; all would be gone!

It took Spock quite a while to get through to Kanar.

He told him, it would be wiser to expand his diplomatic relations to Sterim. Kanar possessed unlimited mineral resources in the mountains of his estate with which he could deal. Sterim should trade its natural products in for salt, gold and iron ore. It would be a win-win situation and Kanar would - if he would handle wisely and smart- within a few years have made Sterim depend on him. Spock didn't take too much pride in his recommendation, but it offered the only way to avoid a military invasion and along with that the shedding of blood. With the point, that Sterim's inhabitants would further more be able to assiduously impregnate women; he had convinced Kanar for good. Spock tried to keep the guilty little voice in his head down. It was the most logical thing to do, he told himself. Anyway- it was much better than laying butchered in the burning ruins of a formerly flourishing city. What took him by surprise was the fact, that Kanar had chosen him to travel as his delegate to Sterim to start the negotiations. It was a long journey and Spock didn't like the thought of leaving Christine behind at all. Kanar was cunning. Spock wasn't able to turn him down without losing his face. After all he had been the one who had suggested the mission to the ruler. The fact that Kanar asked about Christine, right after his so called wish, which forced him to go did not add to Spock's ease.

These were his thoughts when he set forth to the palace this morning… these and a still sleeping Christine.

Three days ago she came to him and asked how she could shield herself. At first Spock didn't understand what her point was. Her serious and pale face looked pleadingly up to him and he would never forget the pain he saw in her features. Then he understood. She was afraid he would sense her feelings during their nightly arrangement. How could he have been so ignorant, he wondered silently. Three years on the Enterprise and the constant dealing with human feelings should have taught him some lessons, especially when it came to women. She was suffering the same way he did! He had assured her that he was concentrating only upon himself, that he would never dare to invade her mind; it didn't calm her down.

"I know we did agree not to speak of it Mr. Spock, but this one time – we have to!" she begged.

He sat down across the table and looked her in the eye, inquiringly and prompting at the same time. She was totally bent out of shape as if she had struggled a long time and finally hadn't seen any other solution than to confront him. Her breathing rate was accelerated and she played nervously with her hands.

"I'm human…"

He raised a brow at this, for it was quite obvious that she was.

"Please, Spock!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Chapel. Go on!"

She started again.

"I'm human and therefore I don't have your self-discipline by nature. If this shall work until the Enterprise comes to our rescue, I'll need your help, Sir! You are a touch-telepath and I can most certainly claim that I am much more emotional than any Vulcan… maybe even more than most humans are as well. You think you are able to blank me out, but I'm not sure of that. I don't know for how long I can lock my feelings anymore. Weeks? Days? What is going to happen when I'm no longer up to it? Please help me! Do it for yourself and for me. I don't want you to sense unintentionally what I'm feeling! "

Suddenly Spock's mouth felt very dry. It had been thoughtless to believe they could handle this so easily. Well, he was able to, but he should have included the human factor into this. She suffered because of him. She was forced to devote herself to him as well as he was forced to take her. She didn't like it any more than he did. He couldn't tell for certain what was raging in her, but by her face which seemed very painful it had to be something terrible. How had he been able to underestimate that? Had he really thought it wasn't hard for her because she once had had a crush on him? If he was honest to himself he had hoped - somewhere deep in side- that this was still the case, actually. It had simplified everything. At Panar nothing had pointed in that direction and it had been a relief that she didn't make advances towards him. He was highly unfair. First he wanted her to spare him with her affection and as soon as it showed of advantage, he had counted on even this unwanted affection!

Well, the situation indicated, that nurse Chapel had actually gotten over her infatuation and that he had been the one who was too ignorant and comfortable to accept it.

Deep within - he felt nothing. If he had been able to get frightened, he would have gotten. Not because he felt nothing, but because it took him by surprise! Since two weeks this was the first time he became aware of the emotional storm flood which surrounded him and which were rioting in the barbaric inhabitants of this planet and in the human he lived under the same roof with. For two weeks he had simply forgotten that he was an island in this very flood and didn't feel anything. Oblivion had been so easy, so tempting.

"What can I do, Miss Chapel?"

"Is there a kind of meditation I can learn; something that allows me to shield myself? I have tried it on my own, but I'm not really sure how long it'll work anymore."

Spock pondered. She wasn't a Vulcan; she wasn't used to perform those techniques.

"It won't be easy, but we can give it a try. If you wish it, we can start tomorrow. I have to get a few implements which will help you to get an easier access into the meditation."

"Good", she showed a small smile but it vanished instantly.

"There is something else which I'm concerned about and I have to talk with you about it now, as we are already discussing _the matter_." She paused.

"And that would be?"

"What if I get pregnant?"… phhu. She had said it. It was out.

Spock looked at her astonished.

"You don't have to be concerned. As you know, I'm a hybrid and therefore non-procreative." He told her with a very sober, scientific voice.

Deep within - he felt nothing.

It was the void, he had almost forgotten for two weeks and which roomed again in him now.

On his way to Kanar his thoughts wandered back to Christine, to all of the little touches during the nights, which had had crept into their bed unconsciously, to the warmth of her body beside him, to the small noises she made when he joined her. It was strange that he had to think of it right now. He shook his head to get rid of it, as he climbed up the stairs to the palace.


	7. Chapter 7

„What happened to your hair, Christine?" Tamaris asked her friend surprised. Christine didn't know what exactly the other woman meant and looked at her puzzled.

"It has two different colors! How did you manage that?" Hesitantly she touched her head where the first dark strands showed.

"Oh" said Christine. She hadn't lost one thought on that. The weeks had gone by and slowly her natural brown color began to shine through. It must appear grotesque to the natives.

She asked the young woman whether her people knew of some kind of bleaching, but Tamaris just gave her a blank look. It would be difficult to find something adequate, Christine thought and ran her hand through her hair. Then she walked on slowly. She would concern herself with the hair- issue when they were back in the city. With her moderately repaired tricorder she would be able to detect something she could use at the market.

The black haired woman watched her friend closely. She had never seen her, this lethargically. There had to be something else going on which caused her grief.

"You are worried!" she declared straight out.

They were at one of their excursions to collect herbs and to just spend some time in each other's company. It had become a habit for both of them.

"Is it that obvious?" Christine asked wearing a crooked grin.

"I guess,meanwhile I know you quite well." She paused – "You can trust me with everything that burdens you, Christine. Your secrets are safe with me."

"I know Tamaris, I know. It's nothing of importance. It's just…"

"… Spock."

"Yes", she admitted, "it is because of Spock."

Christine sat down on a large rock, her friend beside her.

This morning the sun wasn't shining merciless down on them, yet. A soft breeze was blowing through the scrubland outside the town's gates. Lost in her thoughts Christine plucked one of the few flowers that grew here and which sprinkled the landscape with deep, blue spots every now and then.

"Aren't you happy with him?" Tamaris asked.

"Well, happiness isn't exactly the first word crossing my mind when I think of our relationship. It's rather complicated."

Tamaris couldn't stop from giggling. It sounded clear as a little bell above the desert. The wind took it away.

Christine looked at her with surprise.

"Silly!" she merely said. "It is never easy between men and women. Don't you know?"

"When I look at you and Baltar, I doubt it!" she accused her.

"That might be true by now, but it hadn't always been this way. We had our fights; you can take it from me! And nowadays we are still arguing that hard, that he often has to run for cover not to get struck with a full grown Pastar fruit flying in his direction! It's all part of the game. For us- it's the icing on the cake."

Again she paused and looked at Christine closely.

"Did the two of you fight? Is this oppressing you?"

"No, we never fight." She continued working on the blue flower by plucking the petals one by one. "Therefore we don't have enough common grounds and whatever it is that's between us, it's not important enough to be argued about."

"What's that supposed to mean – whatever is between you?"

Christine didn't answer.

"You are his female!" Tamaris pointed out. "You are living beneath his roof, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"He joins your bed…?"

Again she nodded.

"Here you are! What is this supposed to mean – _Whatever is between you two_?"

"You can't understand that, Tamaris. Baltar and you… you are together because you want each other and I think because you are in love. With Spock and me it is a different story. We are not in love…. He isn't." she whispered.

Her friend regarded her uncomprehendingly.

"The only reason he is with me is to protect me. He is doing it because of his sense of duty that no other man is going to harm me."

"So, to sum it up: He is protecting you like any man should protect his wife. He is providing for you like any man should provide for his wife. He is sharing your bed and is taking you like any man should take his wife – and still you think he is not in love with you? He's not mistreating you, he isn't lending you to anyone else, he doesn't tell you to fulfill heavy or dirty work and you think he is doing all of this out of a sense of duty? Seriously, Christine! No man in the whole wide world would act like this if he would not love his wife!"

_No_, Christine thought. _No man from this world would act like this, but after all we both do not belong to this world._

The decision how to proceed in respect of the upcoming journey to Sterim wasn't made yet. Spock was still undetermined, a circumstance he seldom experienced. There were too many variables to predict the best solution. He had spent a sleepless night, thinking about whether he should take her with him or he should leave her here in the house, near the rescue signal. Both ways held their advantages and were dangerous at the same time. If he would leave her she would be able to answer the enterprise, if the ship came during his absence, but she would not be safe. He feared that Kanar was only waiting for him to be gone to come after her. Baltar and his wife would not be able to protect her from the ruler. But if she joined him and the call from the ship came while they both were away… no one would be there to answer and the ship would leave orbit assuming they were searching for them on the wrong planet. And furthermore he wasn't sure if she could handle the exertion of the desert so soon after her last terrible experience with the dry heat. And after they had crossed this sea of sand what would await them in Sterim; friend or foe? He didn't come to a conclusion. Spock knew this wasn't something he could order her to do as a commanding officer. They had to make the decision together. They would… tomorrow. Not now. He needed some rest. And Christine was waiting for him in the living area. Tonight was the first meditation session he had promised her to teach. Tonight was a time to exclude everything from outside. The decisions to make – they would still be there in the morning. Tonight all that mattered was in this room, in these bodies, and in these two minds.

The fire pot in front of her was glowing. She could feel the rising heat on her cheeks. It was almost like a touch. The room was dipped in a warm, steady orange. The light wasn't flickering anymore. The lambent flames were burned down long ago and what had been left were embers. She wasn't able to avert her eyes. It drew her in, magically, like a maelstrom. Spock and she were sitting on a soft carpet covering the stony plates of the floor; between them stood the fire pot. He also was absorbed by the glowing light.

He had explained how the fire could help her to find an easier access to her inside. It was a Vulcan tradition and Christine was well aware of the fact that he was willingly sharing techniques with her which were not meant for off-worlders. Vulcan mysticism was a closed book to humans and according to the council of elders it should remain this way. Certain things weren't the business of Non-Vulcans.

He had talked to her for a long time how she could manage to fall in trance and had mentioned the possibility that it might not work for a human, because the human spirit did not follow the same pathways as the Vulcan did. Finally they did agree to give it a try. He gave her one single instruction to take along with her; to imagine her mind figuratively as a building with many rooms and chambers. She should visit them one by one to recognize their functions. One of the most important maxims of Surak was "recognize yourself!" If Christine wanted to be able to gather an amount of self-control - high enough to create a barrier which could not be penetrated by a telepath- that primarily meant, to know herself. This was the first step. Once she had mastered this, she would find a room in her 'mind-house' – untouched and unloaded- that could provide her with safety and security and to which no other soul would have access. To visualize this room would be her barrier, whenever she needed one. She should meditate in front of the embers, permanently mumbling a mantra until she would see herself in her inner chambers and after a few sessions would reach the safe room, finally. If she would exercise this lesson as often as possible, always using the same mantra, it should be possible for her to reach the room whenever she wished to, just by saying the words. This was the theory.

"It will require all your discipline, Miss Chapel. This is one of the first lessons, a Vulcan child is learning and it is practiced for a life time. The exercise isn't ending, meditation isn't ending." He looked at her calm as ever, though she believed to see a hint of a challenge in his eyes.

_Tell me about discipline_, she thought_. I'm dealing with damn Vulcan arr__ogance day by day without spilling__ a nasty comment, Sir! That's what I call disci__pline!_

"I understand." She replied only. "Look, this is important to me and I want to try it, Spock. I have nothing to lose, have I?"

"Well - then we shall start."

He showed her how to sit in front of the fire pot. When they both finally sat cross- legged and comfortable he looked to her above the glowing heat.

"We both will be meditating. Each of us on his own. The mantra we will speak together. If you already fall in trance during this first session, please try to imagine your inner house as figuratively as possible and walk through the rooms until you reach that midmost chamber. We call this place Sentrimm; the place of the heart. Don't be disappointed if it isn't working straightaway. I will do the exercise in parallel to your own. Are you ready?"

She nodded. The flickering embers seemed suddenly to come alive and they threw in turns light and shadows on Spock's face. His eyes were glistening. Christine had always been fascinated by Vulcan rites although she would have never expected to participate in them and not to mention with Spock as her teacher. The orange light gave him something unrefined, almost raw and Christine asked herself for how many millennia Vulcans have been sitting in front of a vessel like this pot and were trying to overcome their savage, animal side. Despite the heat she got goose bumps.

"_Purged by flames, purified by ember, find thy path to the place of thy heart- Pa'shik k'yai, sok'I k' kilyon, talal sa yut Sentrimm_." Spock began to recite with a sonorous, dark voice. He repeated the sentence again and again. She listened until she felt able to say the strange words properly, then she joined his rhythmical chanting. She didn't know how much time had been passing, but the coal was still glowing, almost white now.

Spock was silent, his eyes shut, deeply sunken in his own meditation. Still she was mumbling the sentence quietly. It hadn't worked. The fire in fact had enchanted her in one way, but she wasn't in trance. Her thoughts were clear and structured as ever. How disappointing. She had expected at least a little bit more from this start. Her throat felt dry and smoke- filled. She needed water. Standing up with an effort, her leg was numb. It made her stumble towards the sink with a loud noise. Frightened she turned to Spock. She did not want to disturb him in his contemplation. But he was still sitting motionlessly in front of the fire pot. Christine grabbed a clay jug and went to the back door. In the garden was a well with wonderful clear water. When she pushed the doorknob to go outside, she let the jug drop to the bottom by mere surprise. It shattered to thousands of pieces of glass on the white synthetic floor. _Glass? _Dazzling, artificial light surrounded her. As she looked down on her body she realized, she was wearing her blue uniform. She furrowed her brows.

_What in the world had happened?_

"Chris!" a shout came from behind her. "Do you want to sabotage my test series?"

She went on her knees to pick up the broken tube. Leonard McCoy bent down to help her laughingly. Confused she looked him in his friendly blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, Len! I assume I have been asleep at the switch!"

"Never mind! The hobgoblin still has enough of his green juice left. It's not the end of the world! Just go and take another blood sample."

He turned in direction of the bio bed where Commander Spock and Captain Kirk were lying next to each other. The first Officer didn't appear too happy, when he saw how the nurse came again towards him, a syringe in her hand.

She gave him a shy look. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I fear I have to drain you once more."

Fatalistically he gave her his right arm. James T. Kirk was just about to put his ocher shirt back on. His routine check was already over but he still had no permission to leave sickbay. From the neighbor lab they heard the good doctor calling.

"If duty-roster wouldn't be so firm, accidents like this wouldn't happen. We all could use a little pause, don't ya think, Jim? Our workload during the last weeks has been enormous. Concentration is suffering from it and not only on sickbay. You should grand the whole crew with shore leave!"

Right at the moment everything that distracted the CMO from performing further physical examination were welcomed by the Captain.

"A pause? Hm… You may be right. We really have been stressed, Bones. If it is your medical advice to prescribe the crew a shore leave, then I have nothing against it. Let's talk this evening in the mess room about it. Until then Mister Spock here could go to astrometry to find a suitable planet nearby." He was winking at Christine as he stood up and went tiptoe to sickbay's exit. She had to smile silently.

Carefully she pulled the needle out of Spock's arm and put the ampule containing the green blood into a centrifuge, most scrupulous not to let it drop again.

He rolled down his sleeve and was going to follow Kirk.

"Are we through with my examination?" he asked McCoy and was already out of earshot before the doctor had the chance to object.

"Yes, we are through, but we should…"

"He's gone." Christine told him with a broad grin and shrugged.

"Crissakes!" escaped Leonard. "This is a sickbay not a through station! And did you hear; he told Spock to look for a fitting planet! Spock!" He snorted derisively, while he continued to gather the remaining shards from the floor. "I demand that the crew has to relax and has to get a bit fun! If Spock is choosing the destination, all the fun we are going to have will be a calculation competition on Star base 6!"

Christine laughed out loud.

"I'm very sure, the Caption knows how to guide Spock's search into a direction that'll provide something satisfying for all of us." She said and went merrily back to her station to feed the computer with more results of her test series.

"With my support he is! Damn sure!" the doctor returned and went after the Captain and the first Officer to prevent something worse from happening.

When the automatic doors to the laboratory opened for Christine, her smile died abruptly. On the other side she didn't see Lab 3 – no way, but a totally different scenario.

A few years had passed, since she last had entered this room. She almost had forgotten it. Had longed for oblivion. The memory was pushed back far in the chambers of her brain. It was a bedroom. She didn't want to enter. It was too painful for Christine.

'_Come on!'_ she thought _'I'm not a coward! This is long forgotten and over. It has nothing to do with the person I am today. It was another life.'_

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and to walk through the door. A wave of disappointment crushed on her. It smelled of untouched things, dust that burned in her throat. Yes, it had been this long since she had thrown away the key to these memories with the intention to never touch them again.

And now she had to raise the dust of years and to breathe it in.

She went into Roger Corby's bedroom.

Bright daylight fell through the big, luxurious room.

Christine gazed at the plenty, silver-framed photographs at the dresser next the bed. They told the story of a happy couple; pictures of jolly Christmas parties, Thanksgiving, their journey to Hawaii. Again and again one looked into the smiling faces of a couple. At Hawaii he had proposed to her and Christine had believed she was the happiest woman on earth. She took the snapshot that showed them on the beach. He had taken her piggyback like a small child and had been running with her through the waves like she wasn't heavy at all. The wind had tousled her brown hair. In her ears the echo of her loud laughter still rang until she noticed painful silence which now reigned the room. Christine put the photo back on its place and left a small, clean trace at the dresser, where she had unintentionally touched the dust. It had been a lie. The friskiness, the happiness and the safeness, she had once felt in this bedroom. Shadowy a younger version of herself appeared. She watched this Christine arriving. It was noon and she knew that Roger didn't expect her. He believed the train from Cleveland, where she had spent the last week visiting her aunt Ethel would not be back until midnight. She had planned to surprise him with a meal. She looked at herself how she hauled up the heavy suitcase at their bed. Of cause it wasn't made. Typically Roger! He was a genius when it came to his work, organized and accurate in detail, but for the household department he was hopelessly chaotic. Leaned against the wall Christine watched how she shook her head with a smile on her lips and how she grasped the pillows to fluff them up and to make the bed. Then she felt this wave of disappointment again, shaking her to her inner core as if it was happening to her right now. It bit in and made her shiver. From one of the pillows a golden softly curled hair was falling to the ground. She stood petrified. Just her fingers ran through her own dark hair. She forced herself to finish the bed. Stoically she unpacked her suitcase, left the house to do the grocery in order to prepare their meal. On the way she had bought a bottle of peroxide. Before Roger came home that evening she had bleached her hair for the first time in her life. The memory of her discovery she had put aside and locked away. She wasn't able to admit, what she had found out this afternoon. It had never happened.

The older Christine, still leaning on the wall next to the entrance got sick as a third wave of disappointment rushed through her. The urge to gag overwhelmed her and she threw up over a thick layer of dust. This wasn't about Roger. She was disappointed by herself, by her weakness. Had she really been this person? It couldn't be! She had been the product of Roger Corby. Knowingly she did let it happen, even when he was long gone; missing. She had been his product for years, reflecting his wishes to keep up the very façade, she should have broken down furiously! She had known it. Always. For years she had lied to herself. She was disgusted by this room and the blond woman she saw in front of her. From the corner of her eyes she saw a glimmering fire pot on the floor. She didn't hesitate and grasped for a piece of ember, throwing it at the neatly folded bed. It caught fire instantly. She opened every window and kept on watching how the oxygen fed the spreading sparks even more. Around her it crackled and glowed. It was good. It was her catharsis. She decided to never lie to herself again!

As she opened her eyes Commander Spock was still sitting opposite of her and looked at her amazed. Christine smiled to him. The shimmer of the ember laid a red glint over her face.

"May I assume by your smile that the session had been a success, Miss Chapel?"

"You absolutely may. However, I guess to reach my 'Sentrimm' it will take a few sessions more. But for the beginning I found it helpful. I'm feeling very good and I owe you my gratitude, Sir!"

With this she stood up.

"I'm a little bit exhausted now. If you please will excuse me, I'm going to bed." She said and left him sitting on the floor. He remained behind, puzzled somehow. He observed the embers and asked himself what she possibly had found inside her head. If he had been able to feel he would have found himself in a very curious state, but that – of course - wasn't the case, he thought.

The first thing he noticed the next day, when he came home from court and entered their small domicile was a nuttily aroma hanging in the air, barely discernably for a human, but his sensible, Vulcan sense of smell could detect it clearly. From the kitchen a joyful humming sounded and he stopped in the doorframe, surprised. At the sideboard stood a dark-haired Christine Chapel, stirring dough in a large bowl. When she saw him, she gave him a bright smile. Like this, he had never seen her. Slowly she ran her fingers through her shoulder-long hair. The motion held something unintentionally sensuous.

"I thought it was about time to turn back to my natural color. The hair line would have been more prominent day by day", she explained without any fuss.

"It's seems different", he just told her. "How did you accomplish this change?"

"The krunies.", she let him in on the secret conspiratorially. "In the old days on earth, the women were dying their hair with an extract made of walnut shells. The krunies reminded me of them and I thought – why not give it a try? And as a plus, we get a cake. Somehow I have to make use of the nuts in the end."

He kept looking at her. Did she just wink at him?

"How do you like it, Commander?"

He examined her closer as she kneaded the minced krunies into the dough. Absent-minded she licked her fingers. He froze for a few seconds, unable to say anything. It was as if a new woman was standing in front of him. Not just her outward appearance seemed different. Her motions, her smile, even her voice sounded more natural, lighter – as if she was for the first time completely herself. Spock was mesmerized. Then it sank in, that he was glaring at her, while she was still waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat.

"It might be a little bit unfamiliar now, but I think the brown is quite acceptable." He answered, his voice a few nuances darker and rougher as usual.

"Thank you, Sir! I will take this as a compliment." She replied almost impishly and shifted the cake into the oven.

He compelled himself to concentrate.

"Nurse, we have to discuss very important matters."

"Of course, Sir." Instantly she got serious. He felt her eyes linger on him in detail.

Christine saw the tiniest of wrinkles on his forehead and she knew, what he wanted to discuss was crucial and she bestowed him her undivided attention.

"What's it about?"

"I told you about the mission to Sterim Kanar is sending me to. I feel impelled to go. We have a problem, Christine."

"Seems so." She answered hard-nosed. "What shall we do?"

"The crucial question is; what can we do at all!" he said plainly. "I see no alternative than to follow his orders. If I won't, he will burn Sterim to its grounds and kill its inhabitants. That's not acceptable."

"No, it isn't. You have to go!"

The silence between them was made of lead and was as heavy as the unspoken question what would happen with her.

Her blue eyes caught his gaze.

"Go, Spock. Go and come back as soon as possible. I will stay here and hold the forth in case the enterprise will come to our rescue. I'm sure Baltar and Tamaris are supporting me, while you are gone."

"Anyway, it will be dangerous!"

"I'm aware of that. But we have no other choice, have we?"

"You could come along."

"That would be careless, and you know it. I'm going to stay as much in- doors as possible until you are back. It'll work."

He said nothing.

"Is it settled?"

"I guess it is. But I don't like it."

"No, me neither. But it's the right thing to do. When will you leave?"

"Kanar is gathering the men and supplies for the caravan. In about two days everything will be prepared."

Christine swallowed down her fear, trying not to show Spock that she was scared to the bone.

"Two days."

"Yes." He paused.

"Would you like to continue our meditation today? Maybe it will be helpful in my absence."

Christine was sure he had been about to say something else.

"Yes, Spock. I would like to do another session."

'Two days' – it kept ringing in her head.


	8. Chapter 8

_Sherry, my incredible beta reader, put a lot of effort into this chapter. She turned my German-English into something more readable. Thank you so much, Sherry! You are the best!_

_As for the chapter itself; I'd be bushing in a dark Vulcan green… if I only could. Plz, be kind._

The group had been traveling one day into the desert toward Sterim. The pertus, upon which Spock sat, looked very much like a camel from Earth. He found himself, again, fascinated by the similarities between animals that had totally different genetic backgrounds. Spock deduced that it was because they had developed in analogous environments. The rocking of the pertus and his natural scientific curiosity had distracted him for a time. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by images of Christine. Kanar.

Spock felt a chill from the roots of his hair that spread to the goose bumps along his body. He couldn't quite identify the feeling, but something was amiss and the trepidation that filled him grew stronger with each mile they traveled away from the city. Moral demanded that he go on. The good of the many outweighed the good of the few or the one, but his human side seemed to be screaming within him.

It was wrong! Leaving her behind him was wrong. He could sense something was amiss.

_XXX_

Soon it was time to bivouac. Skillfully the men began to unload a part of the wood that had been brought with them and arranged fireplaces in a large circle. The fire belt should keep away any wild animals that might be tempted to approach at night. In the middle, a tent for Spock and one for Ohlett, and a simple sleeping arrangement for the workers.

Spock had met Ohlett on the first day at Kanar's court. He was young, blundering and full of arrogance that seemed to come natural to him. Ohlett was typical of the ruling caste, but the young man was not stupid. Spock was on good terms with him, for the moment, and had caught the young man openly gawping at him while Spock debated with Kanar. Usually one did not raise a voice against the ruler. One did not disagree or proclaim a differing opinion. Spock's bravery, in Ohlett's eyes, commanded admiration and respect.

Ohlett did not always understand the strange looking man, but in his heart he felt the peaceful, reasonable words held more power to move people and society than brute force. This was a virtually new idea and left the young man with more than a tinge of distress as it unhinged his traditional view of his world.

The desert was silent and after the men's talk had faded, the crackling of the fire was all that remained. Spock lay still, in vain, waiting for his muscles to relax. Sleep eluded him. Uneasily, he turned over on his sandy bed. The flames from the fire were throwing shadows along the sides of his tent. Dancing shapes became pictures. Long, flowing hair poured over him—round sensual shapes danced on top of him. He almost felt Christine's weight along his hip.

She had come to him on the last evening before his trip. Spock had already retreated to bed, waiting for her to leave the bathroom. She took an unusually long time, and Spock had fallen into a gentle sleep. It was her hands that had awakened him.

Christine's long fingers softly caressed his face, following his brows, which had risen with surprise at her initiating touch. She softly glided her fingers along his nose and rested them on his lips.

What was she doing? He was simply too surprised to move. Her index finger played with his lower lip, performing a light pressure to finally glide into his mouth. He allowed her to continue. She touched his tongue. Spock closed his lips around her finger and began to suck, gliding his tongue along her finger. His mouth suddenly had a life of its own.

Christine's other hand began to wander across his bare chest, through the hair there, and then found his nipple. First, she drew wide circles around it, but narrowed with each round. He knew what was coming if the circles finally came to the center and he held his breath. But when she finally pressed the sensitive flesh between thumb and forefinger, he found himself undone.

If his mouth had been his own, he would have taken a sharp breath, but it wasn't his anymore. Her finger still possessed him and was replaced by her lips pressing against his own lips urgently. Spock had no other choice than surrendered to her and he opened his mouth. During all the nights they had spent together, they had never kissed, had never teased each other—had never exchanged tender touches like lovers. Both had always been prudent not to overstep this frontier. They were no lovers! But as her mouth left his, he felt as if he would die of thirst for a second, as if a glass of pure cool water had been taken away from him. He lifted up to find her mouth again, but her hands pressed him back down in the pillows with unexpected strength.

In the room's darkness, Spock couldn't completely see her, but he could make out the curves of her alabaster body against the night. Her face was hidden to him.

Christine sat on top of his stomach and her hands held his forearms tight on both sides. Considering his superior strength, it would have been easy for him to remove her, but he just could not. He was completely caught. She bent over and he felt something soft touching his cheek, something incredibly feminine, while her hair brushed over his shoulders. Finally, she offered his thirsty mouth a new goal—her breast.

Spock began to suck her breast, allowing his tongue to roll in concentric circles across her nipples and aureole just as she had done to his nipple.

He had to hear it—a sharp breath. Taken because of him, because of what his tongue was doing to her nipple. Just as he took it softly between his teeth intending to give her a gentle bite she withdrew herself and sat up again. And it was Spock then who gave a slightly desperate sigh.

Christine pressed her legs stronger against his sides and began with barely recognizable motions to move on his stomach. Her hips circled. He wanted to move his hands, touch those hips and conduct her body away from his belly—deeper—in the direction of his aching erection. He was so hard that he throbbed against her backside.

She would not allow it—Christine reared up her upper body, stretched it backwards and her hands found hold on his thighs. He placed his hands on her hips, and he had pressed them into her flesh in an urgency that should have colored his face dark green, but she withdrew from him again and his hands grabbed only air this time. She moved back up to sit on him.

Spock wasn't allowed to find the time to be embarrassed by his own shamelessness. He felt her weight on his groin just beneath his testicles. Her hands caressed his waist where she had sat earlier. She played with his hair and in the pale moonlight he saw how it glistened with wetness.

Slowly, Christine's fingers ran through it, and Spock realized with pleasure that it was he who had caused this arousal. She leaned forward again, allowing her pubis to touch his balls as if by accident while she offered him her finger again. He took it in, tasting her.

This was too much! The smell—the taste of her wetness on his tongue, her arousal in his mouth broke some type of ban. Something instinctive took control. No logical or rational thought could have stopped him now.

Spock grabbed Christine and turned her onto her back. Her laughter sounded bright as bells in his ears. He looked down at her and from his throat came a deep animal growl. A primary instinct, something that was ancestral Vulcan had broken free and found its way to the surface of its consciousness. When he invaded her with impetuousness, her nails were scratching down his back. The sweet pain he felt ignited even more passion in him.

He kissed her, nibbled on her earlobe, and took away her breath. Their two bodies were melted into one. She ran her fingers through his thick black hair, pulled his head back and licked playfully along his neck. He was shaved, but the stubbles of the new day had already appeared. She rubbed her face at his check, his rawness, his masculinity, all while he entered her with firm thrusts over and over.

Christine was seeking his hardness and angularity, and he was bathing in her femaleness. He was drawn to her curves magically. Spock buried his face between her breasts, while he was buried between her legs. He fondled her velvet skin like he was intoxicated.

When he finally exploded in her, she held him firmly embraced with her legs and pulled him down deeper into her. He looked into her face. She was smiling like a satisfied cat that had eaten a bowl of cream.

Finally, she cuddled against his body and, after what seemed like an eternity, he fell asleep.

In the morning, he set out on his trip, silently. He was without words—and couldn't rationalize to himself what had happened. Before he left, he had checked on her, and had been shocked at the traces he had left on her body. Christine Chapel was smiling in her sleep but Spock was thunderstruck.

_XXXX

Tonight, he still saw the images of that night—as pictures of shadow and fire on the canvas of his tent, dancing in front of his eyes. Tempting light and terrifying shadows….and the vague silhouette of a man slinking towards his tent.


End file.
